The Ball
by TeamGwenee
Summary: All Edith wants at her Coming Out Ball is to dance with her new boyfriend, Bertie Pelham. But to do so, she has to actually admit to her family he exists. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

"I just can't believe that Granny actually did the whole Debutante thing! I mean, curtseying before the King and Queen and that. It's practically Medieval,"

"Victorian, actually, or Regency" Bertie corrected her with a grin, "And it's not like what your parents have lined up for you is that less antiquated,"

Edith grimaced. Ever since witnessing the uproar that had preceded Mary's eighteenth birthday; which had done double duty as a coming out Ball for her, Edith had been in terror of her parents doing the same. Or not doing the same. It really depended on what mood she was in. But then it was discovered that she had surprisingly scraped all A's in her A levels, had been accepted onto Cardiff University's Journalism course and won a prize for a young author's creative writing competition. After that how could they not throw Edith a coming out Ball? Not when she was suddenly perfect Debutante material.

Not that she currently looked like perfect Debutante material. Dressed as she was in a tatty pair of joggers, one of Bertie's hoodies and tomato sauce smeared round her mouth. They were celebrating both their A level results and university acceptances with pizza and 'Game of Thrones'. It was before heading off to Bertie's flat from Grantham House that Lord and Lady Grantham had revealed to her their plans for a grander celebration.

On one hand, Edith had been flattered. No one had really mentioned throwing Edith a large party like they did for Mary when she turned eighteen, and she could not deny feeling a tad resentful. On the other hand, she was terrible at parties. She hadn't really done the Season yet, her parents being the traditional types and insisting she and her sisters wait until they were eighteen. But she had been to a couple of evening dos at their neighbours' houses, as well as the annual Christmas dinner and Mary's Ball. Those experiences had been enough to teach her that parties were simply all night torture sessions. In evening wear. For her at least.

Making conversation was the worst. She'd either go tongue tied or else babble endlessly in her attempts to seem polite and engaged. Either way, utter humiliation.

DA

The worst instance was at Mary's Ball. She had been dreading the event for months. The thought of spending the evening watching people fawn over her delightful sisters whilst shooting her side glances and wondering how on Earth a family of dark haired beauties could produce a specimen as pathetic as herself sent shivers down her spine. She spent the first half of the evening drinking champagne, wishing desperately to be up in bed and watching Netflix.

Her sisters on the other hand, were enjoying themselves immensely. Sybil was in her element, having cornered the Minister of Education and interrogating him. Mary meanwhile, was utterly radiant. She glowed all evening, basking in the adoration of others. She even did the whole grand entrance on the staircase thing, where everyone turned to look at her in slow motion and gasped in delight.

But then, they could hardly have been more hopeless than Edith. Which Core had helpfully reminded Mary when the latter was suffering from an uncharacteristic bout of nerves.

"Just don't pull an Edith and it will all be fine," Cora said, not aware that Edith had been in earshot. If she had, then maybe she would have said it in a slightly jokier and less disappointed tone.

Edith wondered if her parents knew how it hurt to have her name used as an insult.

As a result, Edith's attempts at making conversation became even more desperate than usual. When introduced to a Professor of History at Cambridge, she had politely noted that she enjoyed history greatly. Which of course was a nice, pleasant reply.

Then she was asked what her favourite topic was.

In hindsight, she recognised that she should have lied. Said something clever like Medicine or Religion. But no, she just had to tell the truth. She watched in horror as the words flew out of her mouth and smacked straight into the Professor's face.

"I like looking up ancient torture methods," she said.

Not having two sisters, the Professor was unaware of why that was a perfectly acceptable answer. Of course, Edith couldn't just leave it at that. Oh no. She had to keep on talking, describing with far too much enthusiasm how they would string men upside down and slowly saw them in half. After that she decided to give up any attempts at small talk and instead snuck off to hide in the Ladies' Room. She ended up spending the evening surfing the web on her phone and occasionally returning back to the Great Hall to stash up on Hors d'oeuvres.

DA

She wouldn't be able to do the same at her own party. Of course, she could spend the evening with Bertie. Dancing and chatting. She and Bertie had met at Ascot. Edith had first attended Ascot when she was sixteen, and on her very first trip a horse fell and broke his leg. She could still remember the white screens. The next time she went, she watched all of the first race through her fingers. As though she was watching a horror film.

Dad had spotted her and forced her hands away before any of the Paps saw. All Edith could do was sit still and stare at her clenched fists. By the third race she felt so sick that she had to excuse herself and hide behind a tree.

It was then she spotted Bertie. Or Lord Hexham, as she knew him then. Just turned eighteen and having only recently inherited his title after his third cousin who died on Safari, Edith recognised his face from the papers. She offered him a polite, shaky grin and muttered a soft hello.

"First time at Ascot?" he asked, after they had exchanged greetings.

"Second, you?" she replied.

"I've been here a couple of times. My Cousin sponsored me. And this is the first time anyone bothered to remember my name," he admitted, smiling ruefully.

"Oh," Edith blushed and glanced away. "During the first race last year a horse died," she explained quickly, "I was so shocked I spent the rest of the day in a terror filled haze,"

"I remember that. I thought it was a great pity. I haven't been unable to properly enjoy the Races ever since then,"

"Oh, me two! In fact I've spent the last hour feeling as though I am about to projectile vomit all over their Majesties!"

Clearly this was going to be one of those 'babble mindlessly' moments. Funnily enough, Lord Hexham didn't seem to mind. Instead, he laughed.

"Well, that will certainly get you into the Papers," he remarked. He was smiling at her. Edith quite liked his smile.

"And it will be something to add onto my Wikipedia page, something other than 'This page is a Stub',"

His smile grew even larger. It really was a very nice smile.

"You're the Earl of Grantham's daughter, aren't you?"

"That's right, Edith,"

She had dropped the title. Was that too forward? Well, it wasn't the 1800's anymore, but still! Mary would have insisted on using her title and every man she met seemed to fall for her. They adored her 'Playing hard to get' routine. Although if Edith tried that she would just seem snobby.

Of course, Sybil never used her title and people loved her for her general down to Earth and bouncy nature. But then, if Edith attempted to emulate Sybil then she would come across as needy. So, title or no title?

"Bertie, Bertie Pelham," he said, reaching out his hand. Taking it, Edith noted that his handshake was strong, but not too tight. Crikey, his eyes were very blue. Neither spoke for a moment.

"Are you enjoying Ascot?" she asked eventually, thankful that the words that she had intended came out of her mouth, and she had not accidentally spewed out a sonnet about how his eyes reminded her of sapphires and his hand fitted perfectly over hers like a missing jigsaw piece. That would have been extremely awkward.

Especially as his eyes were not remotely close to the colour of sapphires. She only thought of sapphires because they were blue and pretty.

They were lighter, but still dark. Like a late evening sky that engulfed the world and made it blue, before the sun set completely and the world was plunged into darkness. Soft and gentle, with a warmth to them that made her feel safe and cared for.

"...I'm glad you like them,"

Crap! She had said that last part. And indeed, it had been extremely awkward. Edith felt her mouth go dry as she waited for him to speak.

"No, I'm afraid that I am not really enjoying Ascot. It's always been a bit stuffy for my liking. And it's even worse now that Peter's gone,"

He had changed the subject. What a gentleman.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," she said instantly, "My Cousin Patrick, he died quite recetnly in a yachting accident so I know what you are going through. At least, with losing your cousin,"

"I'm sorry for your loss as well,"

"Can I ask you, what's it like inheriting all of a sudden?" she asked curiously after a moments hesitation. "To go from a Commoner to one of the grandest men in Britain, to be thrust so suddenly into the limelight,"

"Embarrassing!" Bertie admitted, "My face was all over the papers and everyone at College was laughing at me. Begging for my autograph, calling me my Lord and asking if I was going to have them beheaded,"

"You should have told them that you were going to have them hung, drawn and quartered instead,"

He had laughed at that. What a gorgeous laugh. "Or boiled alive, for poisoning my learning environment. Look," he suggested, "Why don't we do a runner? There is a McDonalds within walking distance and I am craving some real food, none of this fancy stuff. Some proper wholesome grease and fat,"

"What? Go to McDonalds in morning dress?" she laughed.

"Well, I was planning on ditching the hat and coat. But if you want we could keep them on and make an impression,"

Edith blushed shyly, but agreed. She ran back to her parents to let them know she felt ill and was heading back home, before re-joining Bertie. Two Big Macs and a large portion of fries later, Edith had a boyfriend.

DA

Edith and Bertie had been dating for over a year, and Edith had still not introduced Bertie to her family. They were not even aware he existed. Neither were particularly sociable and they spent most of their time at Bertie's place. Should they go out together, they avoided the star studded events where the Paps lurked in wait. As a result, Edith's relationship of Bertie was almost entirely secret. But that could no longer be the case if she wanted Bertie at her Ball. She picked pepperoni off her pizza whilst absentmindedly watching Stannis Baratheon burn his daughter at the stake. She chewed her lip, snuggling up against Bertie and glancing into his face.

"I think you should meet my parents," she admitted finally. With the Season practically over, they were leaving London for Downton in a few days. This would be her last chance to introduce Bertie to her family without him being forced to travel all the way to Yorkshire.

"Alright," he said. He did not particularly mind. After all, Edith had met his mother and she adored Edith.

Realising Bertie had not quite gathered the magnitude of the situation, she added "I am warning you, they can be a tiny bit..." she trailed off, unable to quite put into words what her family were exactly.

Bertie caught her face and laughed. "Well whatever your parents are, they can't be that bad," he said, pointing at the screen.


	2. Chapter 2

Edith looked at her mother through bleary eyes. She could not quite make out what she was saying, only that she was talking in an obscenely chipper voice for so early in the morning. It was half past seven, and yet when Cora had breezed into Edith's bedroom and demanded to talk to her about the guest list, her hair was perfect and her makeup was flawless. Beside her Edith felt as though she looked; and smelt, like a clammy pig in a sweat stained shirt.

"We have to sort out the guest list before we can do anything else. We can't have more than three hundred guests, not if we're holding it in Grantham House's ballroom," she rattled on cheerfully.

Edith blinked slowly. What was a ballroom?

"I will have to double check with Granny, but I think we can roughly squeeze in five guests of your own. Try to think of some friends that you would like to invite,"

Edith didn't think she had five friends.

"Well," Cora said as she perched on the edge of Edith's bed, "Who would you like to come?"

Now woken up, Edith's stomach twisted awkwardly. She had the perfect opportunity to tell Cora about Bertie. She looked away as she spoke, to spare her mother a face full of morning breath.

"Umm, I would, I would quite like to invite... Laura? Laura Edmunds, and Audrey. You know? Those girls on my table in my English class,"

Cora nodded. "Do you want to invite anyone else?"

Edith looked her mother in the eye, took a deep breath and steeled herself. Then she shook her head.

"Not that I can think of,"

DA

Robert didn't bother to look up from the kitchen table when Edith entered, and instead remained absorbed in his paper. Edith sat down beside him with a thud, hood up and headphones planted firmly in her ears.

"Edith darling," Cora rebuked her gently, "Take your headphones out, we have guests,"

They were joined by Isobel and Matthew. Isobel smiled and said she didn't mind, but Edith obeyed her mother anyway and took the headphones from her ears.

"What are you listening to?" Matthew asked.

"...Queen," Edith replied. Robert knew that was a lie. Sitting next to her he could still hear 'The Little Mermaid' soundtrack blaring from her phone. Instead of revealing her, he folded his newspaper and waited for Mrs Patmore, their cook, to serve up lunch.

The family were cosily gathered round the table in what was once the Servant's hall, and as they helped themselves to Mrs Patmore's pasta bake and homemade garlic bread, talk turned towards Edith's Ball.

"I suppose you will be coming Matthew?" Mary asked smoothly.

"I suppose I will," Matthew replied, taking a nonchalant sip of water.

"I am surprised that you could make the time. You couldn't come to my Ball," Mary's lips thinned.

"Well I was under the impression I wasn't wanted," Matthew said.

 _'Not this again,'_ Edith thought, sharing eye rolls with Sybil.

"Edith," Cora interjected quickly, "I've talked things over with Granny, and she agrees that we can fit in five of your guests. Have you thought of anyone else?"

"Can Tom come?" Sybil cut in quickly, looking at Edith with pleading eyes. Robert clenched his fists at the mention of his youngest boyfriend, whilst Cora exchanged looks with Mary.

"I think not," Robert said firmly, "I am not sure that will be entirely sensible,"

"Why ever not?" Sybil demanded.

Edith stared at her pasta. Why had she only now just realised how fascinating pasta was? Matthew too had seemed to find the pasta on his plate equally enthralling.

"Because Tom cannot be expected to behave in normal company, let alone in the presence of Aristocrats and politicians,"

"What do you mean by behave?" Isobel cut in.

"I think what your father meant to say," Cora told Sybil gently, "Is that a Debutante's Ball probably isn't Tom's scene. He might feel uncomfortable,"

"More like he will make the other guests feel uncomfortable," Robert Mumbled.

"Well if the other guests cared more for the comfort of others less fortunate, those not born with a silver tongue in their mouth and sent to Eton, maybe Tom and I will care more for theirs!" Sybil declared, "Besides, it's not really a Debutante's Ball. Nor is it part of the Season, Edith's birthday is in November,"

"Edith will be coming out the Season after," Robert explained, "And there will be many important people there,"

"Only five of whom Edith will have invited," Matthew remarked quietly, causing Edith to smile.

"Well Edith," Robert turned to Edith expectantly, "Who would you like to invite?"

Edith blushed as all eyes turned towards her. "I wouldn't mind if Tom came," she said finally, causing Sybil to whoop, "And my own boyfriend," she added quietly.

She hoped that the thought of Tom attending her Ball would be enough to diminish the news that she had a boyfriend of her own.

It didn't work.

"Boyfriend!" Robert demanded, "What boyfriend?"

"Sweetheart we had no idea," cried Cora, "Why on Earth didn't you tell us?"

"She doesn't really have a boyfriend," Mary sneered, causing Matthew to shoot her a glare.

"Is it possible you have misunderstood his feelings Darling?" Core suggested, "Are you sure that you're not just good friends,"

They were never going to let Edith forget the time she received an anonymous Valentine's Day card in the post, causing Edith to become convinced she had a secret admirer. It had actually been Matthew, giving her something to open along with her sisters. Unfortunately she only discovered this after boasting about it at the Breakfast table in front of everyone. Ever since then any claims to having a boy interested in her may as well have been her informing them she had a boyfriend called George Glass.

"I'm sure," Edith said, "We've been dating for a while now,"

"Well then," Cora beamed in pleasant surprise, "What is his name?"

"Bertie Pelham," Edith admitted.

A sudden, shocked silence fell. Knives and forks were dropped with a clatter and Edith heard a cry of "Bugger me backwards!" from behind the door where Mrs Patmore was lurking.

"Bertie Pelham," Robert repeated, "As in Bertie Pelham the new Marquess of Hexham,"

Well, in for a penny in for a pound. "Yep," Edith confirmed, popping the 'p' in an attempt to sound breezy.

"As in Bertie Pelham the new Marquess of Hexham and fourth wealthiest man in England?"

"Yes," Edith said, smiling sheepishly. She caught a glimpse of Mary's face and shot her a friendly (smug) grin.

"This is so exciting!" Sybil squealed, leaping from her seat and running to sit by Edith, "When did you meet? How long has this even been going on?"

"We met at Ascot," Edith explained, "We decided to do a bunker and grabbed a McDonalds together,"

"And why are we only hearing about this now?" asked Robert, still in shock that his middle daughter had seemingly managed to bag one of the kings of the country.

"Well, we've been taking things slow," said Edith honestly. For they had not done anything major or made any plans yet. They had just kissed and cuddled and watched Netflix together. True, Edith had already picked out her wedding dress. But she had done that before meeting Bertie.

"Well?" Cora began.

"Well what?"

"Well, when can we meet him?" said Cora.

Edith felt her mouth go dry, she had planned for her family to meet Bertie before they left for Yorkshire, but thoughts were becoming reality too quickly. All eyes had turned to her, waiting for her answer. Her eyes flickered over to Matthew in hope of some support, only to find him with sitting there with an odd expression on his face. Edith remembered how Matthew had interrogated Tom when they first met and winced. Matthew was training to be a lawyer and knew a trick or two about making his subjects squirm.

And what about Mum and Dad? When she had brought Audrey and Laura over, all Cora could do was coo about how wonderful it was that her 'little Edith' finally had some friends over. What would she say when Edith brought a boyfriend over? And no doubt Dad had already invited himself over to Brancaster for the grouse shooting.

Meanwhile Mary was glaring at her scornfully across the table. No, Edith couldn't do it. She just couldn't subject her sweet, innocent Bertie to all this.

"See," Mary crowed, "She's lying,"

"No I'm not!" Edith snapped. Mary rolled her eyes provocatively.

"Well then why not introduce us?" Mary's disdainful voice and sneering face made Edith feel as though she had just broken out in a violent rash. All red and squirmy and scratchy.

"You can," Edith said, "I thought he could come over to dinner while we are still in London," she turned to address Cora, "When is it good for you Mum?"

'I am so sorry Bertie, just don't turn up with a nose stud and in biker leathers and you'll do fine. Or at least better than Tom,'

DA

"I need to talk to you," Edith declared urgently, standing in the doorway of her Aunt Rosamund's townhouse.

Rosamund blinked. It was twelve pm. What was Edith doing here before two o'clock? Surely she knew Rosamund never got out of bed before one. Still, seeing the look of terror on Edith's face, she stood back and let her hyperventilating niece in. The two made their way into the sitting room. Rosamund plunked onto the sofa and watched Edith pace frantically. It was too early in the afternoon for this. She reached blindly for a cup of coffee, and glugged it down.

"What's wrong?" Rosamund asked eventually.

"Bertie is coming to dinner!" Edith gabbled, "He's coming over on Friday to meet everyone,"

What Edith had expected to be a simple family dinner had grown into a full blown event with caterers and a dress code (semi-formal).

Her family never failed to find new ways of causing her shock and fear.

Rosamund grimaced. Remembering all too well what it was like to bring her boyfriends home; and what family dinners could be like with the Crawleys, she understood Edith's pain all too well.

"Are you worried that they are going to embarrass you?"

Edith shook her head. "No. Well, I know they will. But I'm used to it. _I_ embarrass me. That's not what I'm worried about,"

"Then what is it?"

Edith collapsed to the sofa with a helpless sigh. "I'm worried that they will be mean to him,"

"And by 'they' I suppose you mean Mary?" Rosamund raised an eyebrow.

Edith shrugged, before nodding. "I just know that Mary will go out of her way to make Bertie feel uncomfortable. Especially if she sees me trying to keep her away from him,"

Rosamund knew exactly what Edith was talking about. The more obviously frightened the victim, the more savage Mary's attacks became. And Edith was far from subtle.

"Well, what if I come. Then I can keep an eye on Mary and intervene if it looks like she is up to something,"

When Edith had first decided to keep her relationship with Bertie secret, that had obviously not included Aunt Rosamund. Rosamund had realised that Edith had a boyfriend the moment she spotted Edith giggling over a text. And she had guessed it the minute she caught sight of Edith's glowing, love struck face.

And so it was Aunt Rosamund Edith turned to for advice over lipstick and hair, or just general excited chatter about all the sweet things Bertie had said and done. Rosamund had never talked to Bertie, only knowing him by sight and sound, but already approved of the boy. How could she not when he brought such a smile to her favourite niece's face?

This was why Edith practically collapsed with relief when her darling Aunt offered to attend the dinner Cora was throwing. She knew Aunt Rosamund would always be in her corner. Thankfully accepting Rosamund's suggestion, Edith returned home with a lighter heart.

Only for her entire stomach to plummet when she spotted Granny sitting in the Drawing Room, talking to Cora. Straight backed and steely eyed, she sat on the antique armchair as though she was an Empress on a throne.

"Hello Granny," Edith said, moving in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello Edith dear," Granny replied stiffly, running her eyes over Edith before nodding with approval, "Come sit by me,"

Edith obeyed her Grandmother and sat herself on the nearest chair.

"I was just telling Granny what time to arrive on Friday," Cora announced.

"Oh?" Edith said politely. It had been foolish of her to have even hoped Granny would be able to stay away from the dinner. Oh, Sweet Summer Child.

"I have seen pictures of him in the paper," Granny informed Edith.

"And what did you think of him? I mean, the look of him?" Edith stammered.

"Wet. Wet and gormless," Granny said bluntly, "But he's rich and titled so I am prepared to forgive him,"

"And I am sure he is most grateful for your forgiveness," Cora said in a sweet voice.

Granny shot Cora a look, only to be met with a pleasant smile.

"You will go easy on him, won't you?" Edith pleaded.

"What on Earth are you insinuating child?" Granny demanded. "I always go easy on people!"


	3. Chapter 3

Edith woke up on Friday morning feeling sick and queasy with nerves. She could not sit still or watch TV. Her fingers were trembling too violently to use her laptop and food repulsed her, which was unfortunate as she knew dinner that night would be fiddly little fancy bits that no one could feel satisfied with. Bits of salmon and vegetables mixed together. Cuts of meat usually spared for hot dogs, only to be eaten at an alarming cost with the full knowledge that they were hooves or intestines. She managed to force down some toast, but the smallest bite seemed to fill her mouth with mush. And yogurt was out. It slipped down her throat like slime and only increased the twisting, wormy feeling in her stomach.

Feeling as though the tiniest bite would make her gag, she skipped lunch and afternoon tea. By dinner she had only managed to swallow down half a slice of toast and one spoonful of yogurt.

Dinner went as smoothly as it could. Rosamund was as good as her word and did all she could to keep Mary distracted. She did so by inquiring over Mary's fashion design course. As Mary talked her face brightened with interest and her eyes sparkled. In an excited manner most unlike herself, she eagerly explained to Aunt Rosamund; a fellow fashionista, all her design ideas.

This turned out to be beneficial on both fronts. Matthew was so busy staring at Mary's glowing face that he was unable to interrogate Bertie. Clearly he and Mary were in the longing stares and knowing looks part of their not-a-relationship.

Unfortunately, nothing could stop Granny's barrage of questions. She interrogated Bertie on his education, University course, career plans and even the rumours about his cousin. Granny wasn't a homophobe exactly, but she was certainly a product of her times. Edith was just thankful Bertie wasn't a girl, otherwise she would be asking him about his menstrual cycle.

After dessert, they returned to the Drawing Room for coffee and discussion. Because clearly there hadn't already been enough of that. Edith sat by Bertie in silent mortification as Robert dropped 'subtle' hints for an invitation to the annual Grouse shoot. Eyes drifting to her sister, Edith spotted Mary touch Matthew lightly on the arm and gently lead him to the corner. They spoke furtively, eyes completely fixed on the other.

"What did Mary say about her design course," Cora cut in quickly, anxious to cut off her husband before he made a _complete_ fool of himself. She looked around for Mary only to see her and Matthew caught up in the other's company. Cora turned back to face the others, leaving Matthew and Mary alone.

"We are going to go shopping for your dress tomorrow Darling, I have made a booking at a little Boutique that Rosamund recommended," Cora informed Edith.

"May I come along?" Rosamund asked eagerly.

"It is in the morning," Cora warned her.

They were both doing what they could to change the subject from Mary. Interesting. No one had disturbed Mary and Matthew once. Edith decided to see if she could play the same trick and gently tapped Bertie on the arm, rising slowly. Bertie stood with her and followed her into the furthest corner away from the sofa. It was fortunate this worked, as Bertie had just informed Robert that he thought killing innocent and helpless animals for fun was cruel and vaguely sadistic.

"I'm not sure that was entirely tactful," she murmured quietly into his ear.

"Well I'm sorry, but it is not a sport unless the birds can shoot back!" Bertie replied indignantly, "Though thank you for intervening there. It was starting to get slightly awkward,"

"Slightly!" Edith repeated, laughing. "Slightly awkward, just like how this dinner is slightly tedious,"

"It's not that bad," Bertie reassured her.

"Well it's going to get a lot worse tomorrow. An entire morning spent discussing fabrics and colours. I mean, colours are _obviously_ a vitally important topic,"

" _Obviously_ ," Bertie agreed.

"But to spend an entire morning discussing them!" she grumbled.

"What colour do you think you will choose?" Bertie asked, smirking slightly as Edith furrowed her forehead in thought.

"I'm not sure yet," she replied.

"Pink?" he suggested, "Or red?"

"Maybe, but red is more Mary's colour," Mary had worn red at her ball. Red silk, with a thigh slit and black feathers. She looked utterly enchanting. Edith had watched Mary that night, gliding proudly round the room, her shimmering feathered train trailing behind her. Edith longed to have the confidence to pull of a gown like that.

She was fond of pink though. Hot pink maybe.

"What about yellow?"

"I'm blonde!" she said in disgust.

Bertie was not quite sure why that mattered, but took her word for it.

"How about blue,"

"Blue," Edith repeated, "There's a thought. What shade, light or dark?"

Bertie eyes lit up mischievously. "Certainly not sapphire blue,"

Edith sensed a trap. She glared at him "Bertie," she said.

"No, a lighter shade than that,"

" _Bertie_ ," she warned him.

"But still dark, like a light evening sky-" he broke off as Edith; laughing, pounded him gently on the shoulder repeatedly.

"That engulfs the world in blue before it is plunged into darkness!" he said loudly, raising his voice above Edith's protests. The sudden noise caused the rest of the room to turn towards them in interest.

"What on Earth?" Robert asked in confusion.

Edith blushed and lowered her fist. "Just um... an inside joke. Stupid really,"

Robert just shrugged and shook his head. He was not that surprised to see Edith and Bertie behave in such a bizarre manner. After all, Edith was Edith and Bertie thought killing animals for sport was cruel. How he came to that conclusion, Robert could not fathom.

DA

As Edith suspected, dress shopping was rather tedious. But it was one of those posh places that served drinks as you browsed and tried on dresses. And drunk Aunt Rosamund was always entertaining. Fortunately they managed to find a dress suitably overpriced before Aunt Rosamund got them thrown out of another shop.

As they stepped out of the shop, she was thrilled to find Bertie waiting in the street. To feel the fresh air after being kept inside the stuffy dress shop and seeing Bertie standing there was utter bliss. She squealed as she threw her arms around his neck and leapt up, wrapping her legs round his waist. He lifted her lovingly and spun her round, before placing her down and pulling her in for a kiss.

Holding her hand, Bertie turned towards Rosamund and Cora and nodded politely. "Would it be possible for me to steal Edith for lunch?"

"Is that alright with you Mum?" Edith pleaded.

"Of course darling," Cora smiled, "Do you need any money?"

Edith shook her head, waved both her Mother and Aunt goodbye, before dashing down the street with Bertie. They ducked into the nearest Pizza Express, and treated themselves to a large and indulgent lunch. After stuffing themselves full, they decided to work off their food by taking a walk in the park.

They strolled leisurely along; not really doing much to burn off their lunch, and chatted lightly. A cloud crossed over the sun, causing Edith to shiver and duck under Bertie's warm arm. They paused and kissed. Neither one of them saw the lone dog walker taking a snap of them on their i-phone.

DA

The first thing Edith did each morning was log onto her laptop. Before she even dressed or brushed her hair. The loving blue screen helped wake her up and pull her from her sleep muddled head. Hair mussed and with breath best not thought about, she typed (and then re-typed when she got it wrong the first few times,) her password. She waited impatiently for the laptop to get access the internet. Having finally logged on, the first stop was the news.

She strolled through articles about war and poverty and the odd Ebola outbreak without much interest. Then; as though they have been shocked, her fingers sprung from the keyboard and froze in midair. She stared in horror at the screen, wide awake and her heart jumping like a ball on a trampoline. For their was her face. Ever so slightly grainy and with Bertie seemingly eating her mouth. There were several more beneath, of them walking and holding each other's hands. The caption read 'The Future Lady Hexham?- Lord Hexham and Lady Edith Crawley take a refreshing stroll through the park'.

She frantically googled the news, only to find her and Bertie's face in every newspaper and celebrity magazine. The Sun, Vogue, even Daily Mail, although she dared not read that one. She sat there, unable to move. Her mouth opened and let out and strangled, high pitched yelp. She then threw herself forward onto her front and emitted several more moans and whines. Plus the occasional scream.

After lying in a pitiful, twitching lump for what felt like an hour, she calmly sat up. She took a deep breath and let out a violent scream before banging her head against the headboard. Having worked out most of her shock, it occurred to her that someone should have heard her by now. Her bedroom was at the front of the house, far away from everyone else's room, but she could be heard from downstairs. And yet her screams had gone unnoticed.

Looking at her watch to see what time it was, she saw that it was only three am. Edith turned her face towards the window. Her eyes grew wide in terror and mouth dropped. Whatever the light streaming through her curtains was, it was certainly not from the sun.

With shaking hands, Edith reached towards the curtains and peeked through. Like eyes burning into her very soul, what seemed to be a hundred camera lights blazed up at her. Rapidly pulling the curtains shut, she leapt back onto her bed and curled herself into a tight ball. She stared at the window in fear.

"Oh bloody hell," she muttered.

DA

"Well it was bound to happen sooner or later," Cora said sympathetically, pushing a cup of tea into Edith's hands, "Have you managed to reach Bertie?"

Edith nodded numbly. "He thought it was funny,"

"Well, it is a little bit," Mary pointed out. Edith glared at her.

"What?" Mary shrugged, "In half those pictures you were either cross eyed or pulling some stupid face,"

It was true. Edith did not take pictures well.

Robert stormed in, spluttering with rage. He grabbed another cup of tea and glugged it down. Calming himself, he fixed Cora with a steely eye.

"I've been on the phone to the lawyers, reminding them that Edith is technically underage. But those Paps are viscous,"

"Why do they even care so much?" Edith wailed, "Why is it such a big deal to them?"

Robert jerked his head towards Mary and Sybil, the latter of whom had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. "You can thank your sisters for that,"

"They were probably frothing at the bit waiting for Edith to do something newsworthy. Ever since Mary made a spectacle of herself with that foreign footballer and Sybil, well for everything Sybil has done," Cora mused.

By which Cora probably meant the highly publicised rally outside the houses of Parliament and the time she and Tom chased a famous chef down the street dressed as cows for cooking veal.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all this Edith," Sybil apologised, even Mary managed a stiff sort of nod.

Edith shrugged and told them not to worry. Especially as Edith was the one who found Sybil and Tom the cow onesies and masks in the first place.

"Well, I won't be able to stop the press but I do think we can get them away from our house. The police are seeing to that, thankfully," Robert added, "But from now on I insist that you girls go everywhere by car,"

Edith's mobile buzzed, and she looked down to see that Bertie had texted her.

 _'How are you holding up?'_

She smiled and texted back _'Shitty. Got the Paps outside our house :('_

 _'Same. Want me to set the white walkers on them? :)'_

 _'Just the dragons!'_


	4. Chapter 4

"At least they were being nice," Sybil pointed out, "The articles are all quite complimentary. And they all mention your A levels and short story,"

"And that I spent the entirety of Mary's ball talking about Medieval torture methods to a Cambridge professor," Edith pointed out.

She didn't know how the press heard about that story, but she suspected the professor had something to do with it. She wasn't sure why he would tell that story to the press, but shortly after she made her escape she overheard a retching sound from the Men's bathroom and saw the professor make his way out of the stalls looking rather green. As a result she guessed he may have been trying to get his revenge on her for traumatising him.

"The papers all think it's funny. It's not so bad. They're painting you as this charming, hapless but lovable romantic heroine. I'd say that you are currently the Paps' darling,"

"But what about the comments?" Edith whined.

"Oh! You didn't read the comments did you? You never read the comments,"

Edith had read the comments. Of course she had. She had looked at them as though she was watching a horse race. A large quantity of the comments were calling her ugly, another section was dedicated to calling her pretty and a final group were chastising the first two groups for talking about her looks and intruding into her private life.

But the only comments Edith really cared about were the ones saying Bertie was punching above his weight. Those ones set her teeth on edge. But Bertie himself didn't seem to mind. He just kissed Edith on the forehead and told her that they weren't saying something he didn't already know.

No one else in her family really seemed to see why the press finding out about Edith and Bertie was the worst thing ever. Forget ISIS! Forget global warming! And forget the NHS! It was clearly the fact Lady Edith Crawley had managed to get a love life was what signalled the end of civilisation as they knew it!

Actually, Mary did seem to understand that. The only person more terrified that Edith had a boyfriend was... well, Edith. Especially as the Paps had somehow managed to get a picture of her stepping outside of McDonalds stuffing herself with a Double Quarter Pounder with cheese. The last thing Edith needed was her face splashed on the front of every Gossip magazine with her mouth open and half a dead chewed up cow inside.

"Well," was her mother's sympathetic reply, "You shouldn't have been talking with your mouth full,"

Edith tried to explain away her lack of manners. But Cora never thought that talking with your mouth full was acceptable. Not even to explain why Brienne and Jaime were the perfect Beauty and the Beast type pairing and that they simply had to reunite in Series 6 or else Edith would die.

"I don't care how made for each other Brian and Janey are, fictional couples simply aren't a reasonable excuse for talking with your mouth full!" Cora informed Edith.

"Brienne and Jaime," Edith muttered under her breath. She huffed in frustration. "Oh, you don't understand me,"

"Darling, it would take a Psychologist to understand you," Mary said.

For some reason nobody else in her family were quite able to gather why TV shows were so important. But Bertie did. Bertie understood her. He knew that it was the best way to connect with people emotionally without having to actually spend time with them.

The only person she could talk to and socialise with without feeling like a blathering idiot with was Bertie. Not because she wasn't a blathering idiot with him, but because when she was he liked her for it. He actually liked hearing her go on long, rambling speeches about why this scene made her cry and why that character deserved death.

And that was what really hurt about the Press finding out. And why she kept Bertie a secret from her family for so long. Their relationship had always been about them. Not like their titles or invitations to charity events. Not even like their education and accomplishments and everything else that made a Wikipedia page look good. It had been theirs, private and intimate.

And now it was for all the world to see. Now their privacy had been ripped from them like clothing and they had been shoved into the limelight stark naked. Their time together had gone from being a special thing for them to share into a bit of light entertainment for the world to enjoy.

Edith wondered how much a picture of her naked post cloitus with Bertie would go for. She hoped to never find out.

She had admitted all this to Bertie, curled up next to him on his sofa in front of the TV. He nodded sympathetically, handed her a large bowl of Green and Blacks chocolate ice cream and suggested they binge watch series four to make her feel better. And yet not even the sight of Joffrey choking to death could coax a smile onto her face.

DA

"It will all die down eventually," Cora had said.

Well Cora was a filthy liar! Even safely tucked away in Yorkshire, the Paps were still on about her and Bertie's relationship. Every dinner or public appearance her family made, the press were there desperately trying to get a glimpse of Edith and Bertie together. In the end it became so unmanageable that Edith had to decline her offer to go to Cardiff University, as she knew that she wouldn't be able to study with all the fuss going on. She would have to try to get onto the course again next year. Bertie had done the same, although Edith suspected it was more out of moral support than Bertie actually caring about the Press.

She had tried to convince him otherwise, but he insisted on doing so anyway.

"Why don't you use your free time to work on your writing? At least until after your Ball," Bertie suggested.

But Edith couldn't think of anything to write. When other young folks her age were studying or travelling, she was at home curled up in her duvet and watching boxset after boxset on netflix.

"We could go travelling," Bertie pointed out. "We could make plans now and head off after Christmas. Do the Grand European tour. Or find a charity to work for,"

Edith knew this to be a good idea. The sad fact was she was an utter coward and the thought of venturing as far as Scotland to visit her cousins at Duneagle filled her with dread. Although that may have been more due to the presence of Aunt Susan than anything else.

"You need to think of something to do to," Aunt Rosamund pointed out over the telephone. "They may be cooing over you now, but soon they will be searching for a new angle and then they will criticise you non-stop for being a rich lay-about. The press will always find something to harass you for. Even if it is doing nothing,"

"But it's their fault I'm doing nothing," Edith complained, "It's not fair,"

"Darling, you were practically born in a Castle, grew up having servants cleaning up after you and you have a home cinema system in your bedroom. You have a trust fund amounting to three million pounds and will never be stuck in a boring dead end job you despise in order to put food on the table. Never mind that you and your family are healthy. You are not the one to be complaining about life being unfair,"

Edith sighed. "I know," she admitted. "I'm just so tired of all the fuss,"

"Well, however you feel now after a while it will all go away and you can laugh about it,"

"Yes, but that's then. This is now! Did you know that two weeks ago the Press did a shocking expose of the time I went out with greasy hair and no make up? I was only going to the corner shop for some Jaffa cakes! Who goes to the corner shop perfectly made up?"

"Young women being hounded by the press, that's who," Rosamund replied, "Look dear, I know it's tiresome but the only thing you can do for now is not give them any more ammunition,"

"How?"

"Well, by being flawless,"

"Oh, it's that easy," Edith said sarcastically.

"Now don't be sharp. I'm only trying to help. Look, the reason they're making such a big deal of things now is because they want to keep the public's interest alive for your ball. They can do a big, fairy tale type story for that and then they will go find someone else to latch onto,"

Edith had already been dreading her ball, although she made sure not to say so in front of her parents. They were putting in so much effort that Edith could not help feeling touched. And although the guarantee of Bertie's presence did help somewhat, she could not deny that the media attention paid to the ball made her feel queasy. She hated having her photo taken and being forced to make small talk. And this time there would be no opportunity to escape. If she slid off somewhere with Bertie the Press would condemn her for abandoning her guests.

But still, she was beginning to look at her Ball as her Final Battle. The last fight of a long and bloody war. And it was a victory she knew that could be achieved. And so she threw herself into full warrior mode. She spent hours every day agonising over seating plans and table decorations. She tried menu after menu until she finally found one that tasted like real food.

Her battle armour was prepared. A seemingly simple gown but deceptively ornate. Mermaid tale and shell pink very sparkly. Very princessy. Edith had decided that if the Press wanted fairy tale, then they were getting fairy tale. She chose natural, gentle flower displays instead of the gargantuan, stately ones favoured by her granny. She opted to light the room with candlelight to create a romantic atmosphere and she had personally picked the songs the band was to play. Initially her mother had protested, but seeing Edith up and about was such a relief. She did not even raise an eyebrow over the excess amount of Disney that had made its way onto Edith's song list. Although she might had drawn the line at 'Rains of Castamere' if she knew what it was.

If the press had decided to paint her as a goofy, quirky princess then Edith was happy to play along.

Granny approved. Glad that Edith was finally taking business into her own hands and commended her for creating an image for herself.

"Very savvy dear, and the Press are always more forgiving for the crazy ones. The ruthless attacks tend to be more on the fond and affectionate side of things,"

As a result, Edith actually enjoyed the run up to the ball. She had forgotten how good it felt to be busy and doing something. She missed having her mind work and going to bed feeling as though she had accomplished something. Even if it only was planning a party.

The feeling of satisfaction had also lead Edith to google different charities she might join to fill her time. She had found several really rather appealing ones, including volunteering at a stables for retired horses that was quite close to home. She hoped that looking after sick and feeble horses might help to ease her guilty conscience over the one she watched died.

Finally, they reached November and they once more packed up there things for Grantham house. The next two weeks the family avoided the ballroom as decoraters and florists charged about, making everything ship shape. The band and the caterers were setting up and the battle lines were drawn.

D-day had arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

Edith was not a morning person. She never was, and never would be. Mornings were the invention of Satan as far as she was concerned. Along with Mondays, savoury scones and poor Wi-Fi access. But she made an exception for two mornings of the year. Christmas and her birthday. And that was because on those mornings, she had presents.

Edith had quickly discovered that Christmas and birthdays were the best time to have a wealthy but emotionally unavailable family. A great deal of overcompensating took place. For example, when Edith was sixteen Robert and Cora gave her a genuine 15th century sword and shield embossed with the Grantham family crest. She called it Throat Slicer. This year being her eighteenth, she expected something pretty special.

She was not disappointed. She forced herself out of bed early in order to shower and change into a clean pair of pyjamas, as the family tradition included presents and breakfast in bed. Half awake, but relatively cheery, she stood beneath the shower and sighed as the hot water sprayed down over her.

She stepped out dried herself quickly before pulling on her fresh pyjamas. Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw her wet hair plastered over her head and the embroidered teddies on her top staring back at her.

"You are an adult now Edith Crawley," she said to herself. She blinked, then began giggling wildly. She didn't feel any older than she did when she was fifteen. And yet she could drink, vote and even get married! Perish the thought. She had not yet mastered the washing machine. Clearly the answer to maturity was not just something handed to you overnight. Still, it was basically the start of a new year for her.

"Right then," she said, "Birthday resolution. This year you will begin to act like an adult. You will wash your own clothes, make your own food (not just dial the number for the nearest takeout,) and learn how to behave in public. No more traumatising History professors with graphic descriptions of torture. You will achieve full maturity,"

"Edith darling," she heard her mother call, "Presents!"

Edith squealed and rushed back into her bedroom where her family waited, all dressed in robes and pyjamas. She hopped onto her bed and jumped excitedly on her knees, joined by Sybil who shoved her present into Edith's hands and begged her to open it first.

"This is from me and Tom," she announced, "And he told me to tell you happy birthday and that he is really looking forward to your ball tonight,"

"And he will behave appropriately," Robert stated, glaring at Sybil sternly.

"Dad, I promise you that Tom's behaviour will be absolutely faultless," Sybil said solemnly.

Edith knew that her Dad and Sybil had different ideas on what to be faultless was. Matthew clearly knew that also, as he shot Edith a covert smirk. Edith wondered if Matthew had two gotten up early, as his blonde hair looked far too flawlessly soft and golden to be natural. She could not tell, but his hair always looked good in the mornings the few times he had stayed over. Sadly, she knew that Mary did just look that good naturally. It was maddening.

Still, she gave fantastic presents. As Edith had expected, she had a seriously good haul that year. From Sybil she had a mug emblazoned with 'Patriarchy tears' filled with what she assumed to be gummy worms but actually turned out to be gummy penises, as well as a antique Suffragette badge.

Mary had surprised her and gave her a collection of 'Game of Thrones' action figures, the boxes of which were hand signed by the individual cast member. Edith had actually choked up at that and hugged her frosty elder sister, who reluctantly returned the embrace.

From Matthew was an absolutely darling angora jumper and from Cousin Isobel a pop up picture book all about the world's grossest and most painful diseases.

Mum and Dad had unsurprisingly pulled all the stops out and showered her with gifts. But the best one was waiting for her outside her window. Both beaming from ear to ear, they gestured for her to look out. Edith gasped as she looked down and spotted a banged up Mini.

"We know it's not that flashy, but it works perfectly well. It just looks a bit battered. We thought you might like something a bit more inconspicuous, a bit of anonymity," Cora explained anxiously.

Blinking back tears, Edith pulled her Mum into her arms for a hug, soon to be joined by Robert. Breaking away, she looked up at them hopefully.

"Can I give it a spin?" she pleaded.

"After breakfast," Cora smiled back, "You can pick Bertie up from the train station. But when you get back make sure to go up the back stairs and stay up. The decorators and the caterers as well as the florists will all be finishing up downstairs,"

"So your birthday will be spent with you stuck in your bedroom with your boyfriend, doing nothing but watching TV," Robert shot her a wink, "A great ask I know,"

Laughing, she tucked into her breakfast. Sausages, fried eggs and a chocolate cupcake with a number Eighteen candle stuck in. Edith screwed up her eyes and tried to make a wish. She had difficulty doing so, for what could she hope to wish for?

"Eighteen," Cora sighed sadly, "I swear it was only yesterday you were a little toddler running around stark naked. In fact, I can remember the day you were born. It was during a charity dinner at Lady Branksome's house and my waters broke all over the Duchess of Cambridge's shoes. She was awfully nice about it and even helped me in my breathing techniques, sadly it didn't help much. You were a such a tricky birth, I swore I had a lorry being squeezed from my uterus!"

Edith cringed. Actually, she had quite a few ideas for what to wish for.

DA

"Bertie!" Edith called out in delight, catching sight of her boyfriend waiting on the platform. She threw her arms round his neck and pecked him on the cheek.

"Hello birthday girl," he cheered, "Just think, we can go out drinking now,"

Helping him with his suitcases, Edith chatted brightly all about her birthday presents. She proudly showed him her new car, causing Bertie to whistle appreciatively.

"Very nice," he said, "But before we get in, I need to give you your birthday present,"

At that, he bent down and kissed her on the lips. Breaking away, she beamed up at him.

"Lovely," she said, "Now where's my present?"

Bertie laughed and stepped back. "It's in my pocket. If you don't like it though, we can exchange it,"

Edith dug around and to her delight, pulled out two plane tickets to Africa.

"Oh Bertie!" she squealed, "A holiday in Africa!"

"Well, actually," Bertie stuttered, "It's a bit more than a Holiday, if you fancy it. You said you were looking for somewhere to do some charity work while you waited for term to begin and I found this. I thought it might be up your alley,"

He handed her a bright leaflet, with a picture of a lion cub being fed from a bottle on it.

"It's a charity, all for helping injured or abandoned baby animals. I figured it might be something fun for us to do together. And give you more scope for your writing,"

Edith pulled him into another hug. "It's perfect Bertie. In fact, I think you might just have to kiss me again,"

So he did.

DA

Edith steeled herself and forced a pleasant smile onto her face. Both she and her parents were positioned at the door waiting for the first guests to arrive. The ballroom was decorated, food prepared and the servers were standing to attention. The band were ready and waiting, as were the press. Now all they needed were the guests. All two hundred of them.

"Alright?" Robert murmured quietly, "Just a few hours and this will all be over,"  
Edith shot him a surprised look, which he met with a sympathetic smile.

"I can't stand these things either. Your mother adores them. Flourishes at them. But I was always hopeless. When I was twenty I went to a charity ball at Lady Anstruther's. She was legendary, everyone talked about her. Especially the men. I had wanted to meet her for ages, only when I did I went completely tongue tied," he chuckled softly at the memory,

"There she was, all red lips and black lace, smiling at me as though we were the only people alive. She asked me if I was enjoying myself and if I liked the food, especially the seafood. I think she meant the oysters but all I could manage to get out was some nonsense about the lobsters,"

"Oh dear," Edith laughed. Robert shook his, still chuckling.

"Oh, it got worse. I couldn't think of anything to say so I just kept rambling on. I ended up grabbing one of the lobsters in my bare hands and made it sing 'Under The Sea',"

Edith broke out into peals of laughter, dimly she noticed a camera flash go off but she did not mind. Her eyes welled with tears of mirth.

"You didn't!" she cried.

"I did," he assured her, "And naturally I couldn't stop there, I went on to make it tap dance all over the plates,"

She shook her head. "And you've been lecturing Sybil about making sure Tom behaves,"

They shot glances over to where Sybil and Tom stood, talking rapidly and shooting furtive glances around the room.

"Well, at least he looks the part," Robert admitted grudgingly. Tom looked rather dashing in his rented tuxedo, as did Matthew and Bertie.

Anxious to tear her father's stare away from Sybil's troublesome boyfriend, she quickly changed the subject.

"What happened next?"  
His amused smile reappearing, he continued. "Eventually she just sighed in disgust and left me standing there, lobster in hand and bits of salad all over my trousers. I caught a group of girls staring at me, as though I were mad. So I took one of the lobster's claws and made it wave at them. They all turned away except for one," he sighed softly, "The most beautiful lady I had ever seen. She had a little plate of seafood with her, she took the crayfish off her plate and made it wave back,"

"Was that Mum?"

"It was. She came up to me and asked me to dance with her. My hands smelt of fish but so did hers so she didn't mind. I still hate balls, but ever since I never went to a ball without her. And that always made it bearable,"

The smile this conjured onto Edith's face quickly fled when she spotted the cars arriving outside the window. The guests all trickled in, laughing lightly and the ladies gossiping behind gloved hands. Edith greeted them one by one, the faces all blurring together into one, highly born entity. Mary was quickly swallowed into the throng as were Cora and Aunt Rosamund. Matthew, Sybil and Tom all lurked awkwardly on the outskirts.

Robert broke away from Edith to join Cora, and she was left alone. She was about to join her fellow outsiders when she felt a large hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Bertie, smiling down at her softly.

"The band is ready to play the first dance," he said, "Your mum says we should open the ball,"

Usually Edith would rather be flayed alive than reveal her lacklustre dance skills in front of two hundred people, but doing so with Bertie felt bearable. And so she took his arm and followed him into the middle of the ballroom. With his hands on her shoulder and waist, he lead her round the floor and they managed not to disgrace themselves.

Couples began to join them. After two dances Edith and Bertie broke away and reached the servers, taking their pick of the food on offer. The rest of the evening passed relatively uneventfully, and Edith spent her time eating and exchanging pleasantries. With Bertie at her side she managed to avoid making a fool of herself.

Back on the dance floor, Edith and Bertie moved lazily in each other's arms. She smiled contentedly as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Bertie tipped his head forward and gently tucked back a lock of hair, murmuring softly in into her ear. "'The Rains of Castamere' is playing,"

Edith frowned in confusion, for the band was not playing that song just yet. Bertie nodded over to the corner, where she spotted Matthew dancing with a pretty ginger girl, whilst Mary shot daggers.

"Uh oh," she sighed.

"No," Bertie shook his head, "Further left," Edith followed his directions and saw one of her father's acquaintances; Sir Philip Tapsell, talking to someone who had his back to her. The man with his back to her turned slightly and revealed who he was. Tom. Pouring an innocuous looking glass of wine for Tapsell.

Edith was not worried, if it weren't for the numerous medical articles he had published, all focussed on proving scientifically that a woman's place was in the home, to be homosexual was to be a degenerate and that there were certain races that were superior to others. Because it's not offensive if it is true. As a result, Edith felt no need to intervene.

Bertie and Edith stepped aside in order to get a good view. Tapsell glugged down the glass in one go, smiled and then sputtered. Gasping desperately, he frantically searched for water. He shoved aside Lord Merton and the Dowager Lady Shackleton, shoving them into a large vase of flowers. The vase shattered and green tinged water gushed out. Lord Merton and Lady Shackleton slipped about, trying to regain their balance.

Sir Philip forced a jug of water from one of the server's hands and tipped it down his throat. He then went on to force a tray of glasses of orange juice away from another, chucking down the juice, glass after the glass. In his desperation he did not even bother to put the glasses back, he just dropped them to the floor.

"Chilly powder," Sybil whispered into Bertie and Edith's ear. They both forced their faces into blankness as Robert placed a firm hand on Sybil's hand and dragged her away. Edith watched in undisguised interest as Tapsell sat in a puddle on the floor, swallowing drink after drink. Several more guests slipped and skidded in the puddles and cameras flashed away like mad, creating confusion and disorientation. Robert roared furiously at Tom and Sybil, both of whom looked far too delighted with themselves.

Granny, Isobel, Rosamund and Cora all watched with carnage with varying degrees of dismay and amusement and Mary was; oh dear, Mary was currently pounding on Matthew's chest. Tears in her eyes. Clearly the pair have had another soul wrenching, gut crunching disagreement and Mary was heartbroken again.

Edith smiled as Bertie took her hand and lead her outside into the streets. Breathing in the cool night air, she sighed in relief and rested her head against Bertie's chest. He wrapped his arms round her and kissed her hair. Compared to the chaos and confusion inside, she could not deny the pleasure she had from the calm she felt in Bertie's presence.

She thought of Matthew and Mary's constant arguing and Sybil and Tom's unrelenting battle against her parents and thanked the Lord for the simple and uncomplicated nature of her own relationship with Bertie.

But that said, she just wasn't a very complicated person.


End file.
